


Let's Marvin Gaye (And Get It On)

by hapakitsune



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He played Marvin Gaye?” Bucky asked incredulously. “How old <i>is</i> this guy?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Marvin Gaye (And Get It On)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Readbyanalise010](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readbyanalise010/gifts).



> for fandom aid for analise010! I hope this is ok! Thanks to rumpledlinen for giving it a quick look over.
> 
> this is unrepentantly rom-com-y.

When Steve managed to find Natasha among the roughly five hundred people crammed into Tony’s absurdly large apartment, she was holding a bottle of vodka in front of her like a shield and talking to Clint’s girlfriend Laura while eyeing the kegstand competitions going on in the middle of the room. She looked amused, and Steve was a hundred percent sure that by the end of the night she would have tricked someone into competing against her, just because she could. 

“Hello,” Steve said, leaning against the wall next to Laura. She kissed his cheek and squeezed his shoulder in greeting. “I don’t suppose any of you have seen the birthday boy.”

“He’s probably making out with Pepper in a closet somewhere,” Natasha said dismissively. “You look good, grandpa. Did someone help you get dressed?”

“I am _less than a year_ older than you,” Steve felt compelled to point out. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Natasha narrowed her eyes at him and pointed at him. “Have you seen anyone you think is cute?”

“Not this again,” Steve said, looking to Laura for help. She raised her hands and shook her head. 

“I have her to thank for Clint, so I’m not going to interfere,” Laura said. “Steve, you want anything from the kitchen? I’m gonna go rustle up some of Tony’s fancy whiskey.”

“I’m fine, but thank you,” Steve said. Laura leveraged herself up off the wall and wound her way through the crowd. 

Natasha watched her go with a fond look on her face. “God bless that woman,” she said. “I can’t believe she puts up with Clint. Lord knows I wouldn’t.”

“It helps she doesn’t drink coffee,” Steve agreed. “No fights for the pot in the morning.”

“True.” Natasha took a pull from her bottle and fixed him with her intent stare once again. “So no one? No one cute?”

“Natasha –”

“I’m just saying, Peggy moved back to England two years ago, and I thought maybe you and Bucky were going to have a thing, and then he went to Russia –”

“Me and Bucky?” Steve asked, baffled. “What?”

Natasha ignored him. “—and you just have that sad puppy dog look all the time. I hate that sad puppy dog look.”

“How much of that have you had?” Steve asked, trying to take the bottle from her. She pouted and held on tight. “Natasha!”

“I also told Bucky I’d look after you,” she said, which explained things a bit more. “What about that nursing student you went out with? She was cute.”

“You date her, then,” Steve said, grumpy. He loved his friends, he really did, but he didn’t _need_ to date. Yeah, he had loved Peggy a lot, but she had moved back to England and wasn’t likely to be coming back any time soon, and anyway, she had a really adorable actress girlfriend now. Steve was totally, completely fine. 

“I would,” Natasha said comfortably, “but Bucky and I are doing the Skype thing and –”

Steve covered her mouth with his hand. “I love you like a sister but please do not finish that sentence.”

Natasha actually winked at him.

At some point, Tony reappeared, and Steve excused himself from Natasha to go say hello and wish him happy birthday in person. Tony was pretending it was his twenty-second birthday, but Steve had attended Tony’s twenty-second birthday party every year since they met. Come to think of it, Steve wasn’t actually sure how old Tony was, other than “old enough, Steven.”

“You came!” Tony said in delight when he saw him. “Have you had shots? You must have shots. Rhodey! Bring Steven some shots.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Steve said, shaking his head at Rhodey, who was watching Steve with the long-suffering patience of everyone who had spent more than a year as friends with him. “Just wanted to say happy birthday. You have to let me get you a gift.”

“I don’t do gifts, Steven, you know this,” Tony said. “Only if it’s homemade. Can you do papier mache? I’d love a papier mache suit of armor.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Steve said. 

He was heading out a little before eleven – he had work in the morning – when someone touched his arm lightly, just above the elbow. He turned to see a good-looking dark-skinned guy with close-cropped black hair smiling at him. He looked familiar, but Steve couldn’t place him, until –

“On your right,” the guy said. 

“Hi!” Steve said, a little overenthusiastically, probably, but he’d been ogling the guy’s ass three mornings a week for a year. “I, sorry, didn’t recognize you out of your – hi. I’m Steve, we’ve never properly met.”

“Sam.” They shook hands and Sam jerked his head toward the door. “You heading out?”

“Yeah, I’ve got work in the morning,” Steve said. “You?”

“Nothing to keep me here,” Sam said easily. “I’ll keep you company.”

Steve kept glancing over at him as they headed out of Tony’s ridiculously swanky apartment building. He was used to seeing Sam sweating in college-branded athletic wear on the track, not dressed nice in a pair of really well-fitting dark jeans and a crisp green shirt. It made an already good picture even better. He was trying to keep a lid on that. 

“It’s weird to see your face and not just your back as you lap me _again_ ,” Sam said, breaking the small silence. “Wasn’t sure if you’d actually recognize me, since all you do it pass me.”

“Not my fault you’re out of shape,” Steve said automatically, grinning. “Maybe if you were there more than three times a week –”

“Holy shit, do you do that _every day_?” Sam asked. He gave Steve a blatant onceover. Steve felt himself blush and was horrified. He hadn’t blushed in _years_. “No wonder you look so good.”

And that, that Steve could deal with a little better. He could flirt these days. He wasn’t even half bad at it, Natasha said. “Well, I do have someone to impress.”

“Yeah? Someone you have your eye on?” Sam asked, smirking. 

“There’s this guy,” Steve said. “Good looking. Terrible runner. Gets mad when I pass him on the track –”

Sam’s smirk somehow turned from teasing to sultry in less than a second. “Oh, that’s how it is?” he asked softly, stopping and stepping in closer to Steve. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “That’s how it is.” His heart was pounding; he had never done this before, just hooked up with someone on a whim, despite Natasha’s best efforts. “So –”

Sam kissed him without touching any other part of his body, just a light press of lips. They were about the same height, so neither of them had to stoop or go on their toes, and Sam was being so _nice_. Steve wasn’t really interested in _nice_. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” Sam said when he pulled back. “I saw you tonight and figured this was my one chance to impress you while I’m not sweating like a pig and gasping for air.”

“You did a good job,” Steve said, and he dragged Sam back in by the lapels of his nice shirt. 

Sam lived off-campus, in a converted loft, with a roommate named Riley who, “isn’t home, thank god.” Steve, who was currently marveling at the fact that he was going home with the hot running guy he liked messing with three times a week, didn’t pay much attention to Sam’s explanation about where Riley was. He was instead focused on untucking Sam’s shirt and unbuttoning it from his jeans.

“Wait,” Sam said suddenly just as Steve was getting to his button. “Hang on a second. Wait, follow me, then wait.”

Confused, Steve followed him into what was apparently Sam’s bedroom, a tidy and homey space with a thick shag rug and photos thumb-tacked to the walls. Sam was fussing with what looked like an iHome on his bedside table, and a moment later, music started up, something bluesy and visceral. It wasn’t until the vocals kicked in that Steve grinned, recognizing it. 

“Marvin Gaye?” he asked. “Really?”

“I’m telling you, there’s no better album to describe the twentieth century,” Sam said. “Aliens come down to earth tomorrow, I say this is what we give them to understand America.”

Steve had to kiss him for that, sliding his arms around Sam’s waist where his shirt is hanging open, and then they were tumbling to Sam’s bed, laughing against each other as they struggled through getting the rest of their clothes off. Sam was strong and, god, so hot, and Steve couldn’t stop touching him, running his fingers over the cut of his pecs, across his biceps, down his arms. Sam, for his part, seemed to really like Steve’s shoulders, pressing kisses to them as he jerked Steve off. Steve had to – simply had to – slide between Sam’s legs after that, bracing himself on Sam’s thighs, and let Sam ride out his own orgasm in Steve’s mouth. 

“Goddamn,” Sam said, lying back with an arm across his face. “I need to work on my stamina.”

“I find it kind of flattering, actually,” Steve said once he’d finished spitting into a tissue. “But we could work on that.”

Sam peeked out from under his arm, looking hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Not tonight,” Steve clarified. “I have work in the morning. But – yeah.”

Sam hummed, sounding satisfied, and pulled Steve up to kiss him, slow and a little dirty. “Okay,” he said, hand still on Steve’s bare ass. “I can live with that.”

 

Sam was asleep when Steve left the next morning, obscenely early so he could get into work on time. He left a note, though, with his number and a tiny sketch of Sam’s sleeping face. He skidded into work just barely on time, flashing Maria a smile as he put on his apron and washed up in the kitchen. Being a barista was kind of terrible most of the time, but he took what he could get when it came to on-campus jobs, and today he almost didn’t mind being there before the sun was even up, making lattes for the morning crowd. 

“You’re very cheerful today,” said Jim, who was working the register and hated mornings more than anyone Steve had ever met. “Good night?”

“Not bad,” Steve said, and if he was humming Marvin Gaye as he made Anjelica with a j’s mocha, well, no one could hear him over the milk steamer anyway. 

Steve’s shift was over by mid-afternoon, and when he got home, Natasha was lying face down on his couch with a huge Nalgene bottle of water on the floor beside her. He sat on her legs – he had long since given up trying to figure out how she kept breaking into his dorm room – and stroked her hair until she groaned and turned her head to squint up at him. 

“How was work?” she asked. “Was anyone mean to you? Do I need to beat someone up?”

“No and no,” Steve said, still stroking her hair. “I thought you didn’t get hangovers.”

“I’m not hungover,” Natasha said, very obviously lying through her teeth. “You weren’t here when I came here last night, where we – oh my god.”

“What?” Steve asked, hand freezing. Natasha had this terrifying and eerie ability to _sense_ things. It was frightening. “I was, uh –”

“You got _laid_ ,” Natasha said, somehow twisting around underneath him to stare up at him. “Steven Rogers, you met a _boy_ last night.”

“How do you know it was a boy?” Steve asked, baffled. 

“If it was a girl, you would have brought her back here,” Natasha said. 

“It’s genuinely unnerving that you know that,” Steve told her. 

“Yeah, whatever. Get off my feet and tell me everything,” Natasha said, propping her chin on her fist and beaming at him. She looked genuinely _proud._

So Steve told her about Sam, who he had mentioned before as “this hot guy I see on the track,” and about their flirting and about his apartment. When he mentioned the Marvin Gaye, Natasha snorted so loud that Steve stared at her, and she said, “Well, it’s a bit weird, isn’t it? How old is he, forty?”

“He is _not_ forty,” Steve said. 

“Okay, whatever, you’re telling Bucky about this and he’ll back me up,” she said. 

So when they called Bucky over Skype later, Steve repeated the story and watched as Bucky’s face moved through a complicated series of emotions before eventually settling on amused befuddlement. 

“He played Marvin Gaye?” Bucky asked incredulously. “How old _is_ this guy?”

“That’s what I said!” Natasha said triumphantly. “See, Steve?”

“He’s my age, I think,” said Steve. “He isn’t – you know what, I don’t know why I even told you about this.”

“We’re your best friends,” Bucky said. “Of course you told us.” He looked tired; it was probably pretty late in Moscow. “Hey, give me and Nat a moment?”

“Yeah, okay.” Steve kissed Natasha’s head, waved to Bucky, and left them to talk while he did homework in his room. He was midway through his reading for his Women in American History class when his phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. 

_Skipping out before I wake up? Didn’t think you were that kind of boy._

Steve grinned despite himself. _I told you, I had to go to work. Can I make it up to you? Dinner, maybe?_

“Steve, Bucky wants to say bye,” Natasha called through the door. Steve picked up his phone and went to say farewell, sitting down next to Natasha to wave. 

His phone lit up again. _Sounds classy. Fair warning, I don’t put out on the first date ;)_

“Are you texting Marvin Gaye guy?” Bucky asked, sounding amused. “Steve Rogers. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“He’s nice,” Steve said. “And funny. I don’t know, I like him, I think.”

“I’m glad,” Bucky said. He was smiling, and for a moment Steve missed him so fiercely it hurt. He could count on his fingers the number of times he and Bucky had gone for more than a week without seeing each other in person. 

“I miss you,” he said, because he’d had a policy of being completely honest with Bucky since that one car accident Bucky got into sophomore year in college, the one that ended with him needed about fifty metal pins put in his left arm. 

Bucky’s expression softened. “Yeah. I miss you too, punk. It’s only a semester, you know.” 

“I know.” Steve shrugged. “Still do.”

Sometimes he thought Bucky still saw him as the scrawny kid he’d been when they first met; was, in fact, sure of it at times like this when Bucky was looking at him like he didn’t know whether to hug him or give him a noogie. 

“You sap,” Bucky said. “Have fun with your boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend yet,” Steve said optimistically. Natasha cracked up, and their call was ended by both of them teasing him mercilessly. Steve loved his friends. 

 

Sam and Steve weren’t able to schedule dinner together until Wednesday night, but when Steve went out to the track on Monday, he saw the familiar figure of Sam doggedly jogging around the track. Steve caught up with him and says, “On your left,” laughing when Sam jumped. 

“Damn, you’re quiet,” he said, grinning. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Steve said, keeping pace with him. “Do you even like running?”

“No,” Sam admitted. “But I messed up my knee a couple years ago. When I don’t go running I can feel my physical therapist glaring at me from across the country. What about you? Tell the truth, you’re the bionic man.”

“Maybe,” Steve said, unable to hold back his grin. “Catch me and you can find out.”

With that, he took off down the track, laughing as he heard Sam swear after him. When he caught up with Sam again, he tapped him lightly on the ass, blowing in his ear as he passed. 

“You’re a dead man, Steve!” Sam yelled after him. 

They ended up going for breakfast after, Steve getting a kale shake and laughing at Sam’s disgusted face, Sam getting an orange juice and a yogurt. They sat out in the quad, legs stretched out in front of them, and in the time it took for them to finish their food, Steve learned: 

1\. Sam, full name Sam Wilson, was from Harlem, and he laughed when Steve said he was from Brooklyn.  
2\. He loved both of his parents dearly.  
3\. He volunteered at the local children’s hospital on the weekends.  
4\. He was also majoring in social work.  
5\. Steve really wanted to kiss him. 

He waited until Sam was done with his yogurt to lean over and wipe away an imaginary smear. “I’m really glad you were at Tony’s party,” he said. 

“Me too,” Sam said, grinning at him. “You gonna make a move, bionic man, or –”

Steve scooted his chair in and kissed him, pulling him in until they were both a little breathless. Sam was grinning even wider when Steve pulled back. 

“Man,” he said, reaching up to stroke Steve’s jaw. “I gotta get you to come by the hospital. All the girls will be so jealous. I’ve been telling them about you for ages.”

“You didn’t even know anything about me,” Steve said, kissing his palm. It was a little startling to him, how easy it was to be with Sam like this. Easy as being with Bucky, or Natasha. With extra kissing, of course. 

“I knew you had the ass of a Greek god,” Sam said shamelessly. He grinned. “I know that even better now.”

“Why, Mr. Wilson,” Steve said. “I think you’re trying to seduce me.”

“Been there, done that.” Sam glanced at his watch and back up at Steve. “I don’t have to be anywhere for a couple hours. I said not the first date, but seeing as this isn’t technically a date I could make an exception.”

Steve laughed, open and loud, and pulled Sam up to his feet. “In that case, lead the way.”

 

They didn’t end up going to dinner on Wednesday; they stayed in and ordered Chinese food. It was perfect. And Sam, as it turned out, made exceptions for first dates, too.


End file.
